By Jan Wizinowich
My son Wynton and I spent the day witnessing the preparation and re-launch of Makaliʽi. Although intellectually, I’m asking myself why we were spending the whole day watching this slow process, in my heart, it was what Makaliʽi commanded, presence and mindfulness. Whether on the ocean or in drydock, the waʽa is about presence and mindfulness.
The crew are making final preparations, all locked together by their strong desire and the knowledge that the waʽa demands the blending of hearts, hands and minds. Even before the waʽa is in the water, the crew is tightening their inner control, every move a conscious one. Like aikido masters, they are firmly grounded yet always aware of the potential energies surrounding them. The constantly swirling, gusting punch of the winds remind them that the only control they have is their own center of gravity, so that they can work amidst the possible chaos that awaits them, and maintain the balance of survival.
The keiki and teachers from Aha Punanaleo ʽo Waimea Pre-school arrive and gather beside the waʽa. “Isn’t the wind blowing in the wrong direction?” asks one of the teachers. Perhaps they too are getting a glimpse into the nature of a world without apparent boundaries, borders, laws or rules. How many of these young ones will venture out into this world of their ancestors?
There is a procession to the finger pier where the Makaliʽi will be launched using a crane. The truck pulls the flatbed where the waʽa rests uneasily and is led by Kealiʽi, who along with his wife Pua, anchored the drydock effort and Sonny acting as pilots. Just behind three exuberant youth frolic, running up to hitch a ride, then falling away to continue their dance of delight. Behind them is a pilgrimage and like many pilgrims, they are led by their hopes for the future and a need to reconnect with the past. For the Hawaiian culture, it all began with the waʽa. The winds are alternating between cooing caresses and angry jackhammer blows, offended that this plaything of theirs is being kept from them still, wanting to sweep it away into the sea.
There is a procession to the finger pier where the Makaliʽi will be launched using a crane. The truck pulls the flatbed where the waʽa rests uneasily and is led by Kealiʽi, who along with his wife Pua, anchored the drydock effort and Sonny acting as pilots. Just behind three exuberant youth frolic, running up to hitch a ride, then falling away to continue their dance of delight. Behind them is a pilgrimage and like many pilgrims, they are led by their hopes for the future and a need to reconnect with the past. For the Hawaiian culture, it all began with the waʽa. The winds are alternating between cooing caresses and angry jackhammer blows, offended that this plaything of theirs is being kept from them still, wanting to sweep it away into the sea.
Indeed, out of her element, she looks hulking and in deep contrast to the graceful sweeping mountains that are ka makani’s plaything, a slide down which the wind flies, picking up speed and colliding with great joy and exuberance to land another blow to the waʽa. As she weaves her way through the commercial pier, she takes on a look of grace, passing brightly colored containers that possibly hold the detritus of what we think of as necessary to our lives. With the exception of a few yachts, the harbor and peer no longer hold a sense of excitement, the potential for adventure. It is disguised as a small undistinguished village of oversized building blocks stacked in various arrays. In contrast, the Makaliʽi is a bird, among the rocks and poised for flight.
Now poised on the peer and undergoing more preparations, we all gather as if before an altar of worship, to lend our own spirit energies to the efforts. A circle of life is created with the keiki watching patiently and playfully, while the crew, some of whom grew out of Punanaleo, steadily complete the remaining tasks. The mast is lifted by the crane and stepped into the heiau, trailing many lines like a maypole, with one or two crew members poised at each end. Each adding their own tension to a line, they wait for the call to tighten or loosen that will make the mast come true. Laulima.
The watchers are called on to bring water, add weight to a line. Kaleihinano, Punanaleo teacher gazes at her beautiful son and daughter, who are self-assured members of the crew. Then finally the keiki have to leave, but rather than break the connections, they seal it with chant. Stepping forward in a respectful line, they call out. The crew pauses in stilled respect and when the keiki have finished, they give an answering chant, the lead voice being passed between crew members.
The watchers are called on to bring water, add weight to a line. Kaleihinano, Punanaleo teacher gazes at her beautiful son and daughter, who are self-assured members of the crew. Then finally the keiki have to leave, but rather than break the connections, they seal it with chant. Stepping forward in a respectful line, they call out. The crew pauses in stilled respect and when the keiki have finished, they give an answering chant, the lead voice being passed between crew members.
Throughout this process, the two captains present, Shorty Bertelmann and Chadd Paishon, observe from the shadows cast by the dock warehouses, letting the young crew find their way and test what they have learned from these wise men. They are witnesses of a different sort. By the time that Makaliʽi is finally lifted into the water, my son and I are the only two witnesses left on the peer. Hulo, hulo! Kealiʽi makes the call and soon a boat will come to tow her back to her home berth, this time in the water though and soon to be a frolicking interface between humans and the winds.
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